


Following the Rules

by KatyaZel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eyeliner, Hogwarts, I really need to be stopped, Insomnia, Late night talks, M/M, Marauders era, Referenced past abuse, Some Fluff, Some angst, Watching the Sunrise, eventual pining, no sleep, remus being extra, this is pretty silly and quite self indulgent, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 04:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16278026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyaZel/pseuds/KatyaZel
Summary: Sirius and Remus don't sleep. The world of exhaustion and confidences they inhabit late at night is vague, and Remus wants it to be less so. So he writes some rules, and Sirius humors him.





	Following the Rules

**Author's Note:**

> My entire brand at this point seems to be insomnia, which I guess isn't the worst brand to have. Let me know if the format of this is confusing!

**March 1975**

 

“Rules?” Sirius scoffed. “Don’t be so...you.” Despite Sirius’s derision, Remus maintained his composure. Sirius wished he wouldn’t, just once.

 

“Come on, Sirius. After this morning, I think we should,” Remus said evenly. Sirius cringed internally.  _ This morning _ had been one of countless miserable ones, facing the day after a scant hour of sleep and a long, lonely night. The morning had been made even worse, though, by his own idiocy. 

 

At breakfast, James had been idly scanning the Prophet and come across an article on Fenrir Greyback. “Evil little prick, isn’t he,” he had commented without much feeling. On another day, perhaps, Sirius would have noticed Remus tense and look down at his hands as Peter eagerly shared a gruesome rumor he’d heard about Greyback. 

 

But on this day, Sirius did not see Remus, did not see the food in front of him, barely saw his own eyelids every time he blinked. He hadn’t quite realized that he was no longer in that limbo of late-night insomnia, and so he yawned and peered at the paper. “He’s the one that bit Remus, the bastard.”

 

Remus’s head had shot up and the betrayed look he’d given Sirius had been worse than the headache his restlessness had earned him. Sirius immediately regretted it, realizing what he’d done as Peter and James leaned towards Remus and began to ask if it was true.

 

Remus didn’t seem angry now, as the two sat in the empty Common Room. He didn’t seem angry, Sirius thought, but he did seem to be deliberately focused. 

 

“I just think,” Remus said, pulling out a sheet of parchment and a quill, “That it will be best if we make some rules. We’ve been doing this for two years, and neither of us seems likely to be suddenly cured of our insomnia. Aren’t there things you’d like us to lay out? So we know. Rules.”

 

Sirius was going to agree, of course. The guilt ensured that. But he still rolled his eyes and said, “What that you know about me would possibly make you think I would want more rules in my life?”

 

Remus smiled to himself, knowing he had won. “Let’s start with ones we already kind of have.”

 

“Okay: Remus isn’t allowed to be a boring sot.” Remus snorted and, without looking, spelled Sirius’s blankets away from him. Sirius’s jangling mind settled a little: this was familiar territory. Despite his annoyance, Remus wrote something down and nodded.

 

  1. _No homework after two._



 

**February 1973**

 

It began in February of second year. Remus thought at first that it must be a new symptom, one more way the wolf would control his life, but as it went on he realized it had nothing to do with the moon. The first time it happened he was miserable and confused. For a week and a half, he couldn’t get more than three hours sleep in a night, and then would wander through the day like a corpse. 

 

The next time was over a month later, which led Remus to conclude it couldn’t be the moon. This time, rather than stare endlessly at the wall, he decided he may as well be productive if he was going to be awake. And so, on the second night of sleeplessness, once one in the morning had passed, he quietly grabbed a book and crept downstairs. 

 

The Common Room was quiet, only a few sixth and seventh years frantically trying to finish something up. They looked up when Remus made his way to settle on a chair in the corner, but other than a raised eyebrow or two they let him be.

 

The same could not be said for Sirius, who followed down the stairs almost as soon as Remus had opened his History of Magic book. “What are you doing, Remus?” he asked, curiosity still masked in haughty Black-family affect.

 

“I couldn’t sleep. Thought I might as well get ahead on my readings.” Hoping this would be sufficient, he turned his head down again.

 

Sirius flopped down on the ground next to Remus. “Why can’t you sleep?”

 

“What sort of question is that? I don’t know. I’m exhausted. Just can’t fall asleep somehow.” Remus eyed the other boy and willed him to go back upstairs.

 

Something crossed Sirius’s face for an instant, but was gone before Remus could try and understand it. “Well, I can’t sleep either,” he declared. “Why don’t we do something?”

 

Remus shook his head. “Sorry, but I’d really like to get this reading done.” Why wasn’t Sirius taking the hint? Remus clutched the edges of his book and kept his eyes stubbornly on the text.

 

Sirius groaned dramatically, but acquiesced. Both boys returned upstairs after a few hours, but the following several nights found them together downstairs again. Each night, Remus insisted on doing homework and Sirius, though frustrated, let him.

 

Finally, though, the restless boy couldn’t stand it. “Merlin and Morgana, Remus. Don’t you get bored? You must have done all your work for the next month.”

Remus looked at his friend. Sirius was more correct than Remus cared to admit; while he by now considered Sirius one of his best friends, he was unsure how to be with him when James and Peter were absent. Having Sirius’s sole attention was unnerving; having anyone’s attention was. Remus was too used to hiding.

 

But he didn’t want to annoy Sirius now, and so he glanced at his watch. “Give me ten minutes,” he said, “At two, I’ll stop reading.”

 

Sirius grinned, all triumph and relief. “Brilliant. I’ll set up the chess board.”

__________

 

“Okay,” Remus said, “No homework after two. What else?”

 

“They’re your bloody rules. You tell me.” Sirius was restlessly transfiguring the teacup next to him over and over.

 

Remus thought. “I don’t want us to stop trusting each other.” Which Sirius knew with a lurch meant  _ I don’t want to stop trusting you _ . “We have some good talks when we’re up, you know? What about: Always ask the question you want to.”

 

Sirius thought. “Maybe, but it needs a caveat. I can’t answer every question you ask me, and I’m sure you can’t answer all of mine.”

 

Remus took his quill to the parchment again, nodding.

 

  1. _Ask any question; hold no expectation of an answer._



**November 1973**

November third, 1973 was a good day. Sirius had actually slept several hours the prior night, and the day itself was a Saturday, full of lounging, and plotting with James, and stolen biscuits, hot from the kitchen. It was a good day, and that, Sirius thought as he lay in bed, was as good a birthday gift as he could ask for.

 

Unfortunately, a good night’s sleep would not be included in that gift, and around one he whispered, “Remus?”

 

The other boy didn’t respond, but stood up and walked towards the door. Sirius followed and the two went down to the common room, in which a few groups of older kids still sat. “I’m starved,” Remus commented. “Shall we go to the kitchens?”

 

It had only been at the start of this year that Sirius had convinced Remus they should wander outside the common room, but once Remus had seen the kitchens he had been completely sold. Now, he was more likely than Sirius, on a given night, to suggest they snitch some scones or biscuits.

 

They swung open the portrait as discreetly as they could, but Sirius doubted any older Gryffindor would begrudge some third years a late night adventure in any case. 

 

On the other side of the portrait, however, lay not adventure, nor even late-night snacks, but Regulus, slumped next to a wall asleep. Sirius let the portrait hole slam shut behind him, which abruptly awoke his brother. “Reg, what are you doing up here? You’ll get detention.” He himself wasn’t sure whether affection or frustration or confusion won out.

 

“Sirius!” The younger boy scrambled to his feet, smiling broadly. “I didn’t see you all day and I  _ thought _ you might still sneak out later.” He dug in a pocket and brought out a slightly crumpled package. Sirius, immediately understanding, threw a glance at Remus, who looked bemused and curious. 

 

“What’s the occasion, Regulus?” Remus asked. Upon being addressed, Regulus grew momentarily cagy, but then looked at his brother, eyes wide. 

 

“Why doesn’t he know?”

 

Sirius grabbed the package from his brother and stuffed it in his own pocket. “We’re going to the kitchen. You should go to sleep.” As he strode off, he could hear Remus apologize on his behalf and follow.

 

Sirius got to the entrance to the kitchen and slumped against the wall, waiting for Remus to catch up. “What,” he began, panting slightly, “Was that about? What did he give you?”

 

Sirius didn’t respond, but began to unwrap the package as Remus sat down next to him. A handful of chocolates fell out, as did a small brown book. It was a journal, Sirius saw as he flipped through it. The only thing written in it was a page-long note from his brother, painstakingly copied out. Sirius felt a lump of guilt as he read it.

 

“It’s my birthday,” he finally said.

 

“What?” Remus was taken aback. “How do I not know your birthday? Was it really today?” Sirius nodded. “How come you didn’t say anything?”

 

Sirius gave a moody shrug and violently unwrapped a chocolate. “I don’t know,” he muttered. And it was kind of true. He didn’t really understand why it would be so terrible to have his friends celebrate his birthday, but he knew it would be. He felt it right now, as Remus continued asking questions.

 

“And why did you just leave Regulus? Poor kid. Can I see that book he gave you?”

 

“ _ No _ .” Sirius clutched it tightly. He felt crazy, like nothing was holding his atoms together and he was rapidly dissipating. Remus probably thought he was mad, right now. “Shut  _ up _ , Remus.”

 

The other boy finally seemed to understand that something more than irrational secrecy was gripping his friend. He softened, peered at his friend’s face. “Sirius, what’s wrong? Why is your birthday… so bad?”

 

Sirius thought about birthdays at home, the confusion of affection followed by punishment followed by dessert. He thought about how even the smell of cherries jubilee still made him nauseous. But he just shook his head in response to his friend’s questions. “I can’t tell you, I don’t know.” Remus seemed to accept this, at last. 

 

“Okay, Sirius,” he replied quietly. “But you need to apologize to Regulus. And you need to give me some of that chocolate.”

__________

 

“That’s a good rule,” Sirius said, “But it needs a corollary. After...this morning.” He looked down, furious with himself all over again. Angry because he felt someone should be, and Remus wasn’t willing.

 

“‘Corollary?’” Remus raised his eyebrows. “Be careful, your private tutoring is showing.” He dodged the piece of biscuit Sirius aimed at him. “You’re right. A corollary would be important.” Remus dipped his quill and paused briefly before writing something down.

 

  1. _All things said are said in confidence._



 

**January 1975**

 

It was a week after the full moon, and it had been ugly. For a few days, exhaustion won out and Remus was sleeping, but then whatever mechanisms in his mind worked to keep him awake kicked in. Compounding his insomniatic weariness was the pain of his still recovering body, all new scars and bruises. 

 

On the third night of restlessness, as was habit, Remus waited until Sirius whispered his name and then both boys crept downstairs. By now, in fourth year, they had a routine. Usually, Remus would grab a book or an essay to work on, or Sirius would grab a deck of cards, or one of them would suggest sneaking out somewhere. Tonight, though, Remus collapsed into a chair and simply stared into the fire. 

 

He barely registered how strange it was that Sirius was equally pensive, and they sat in silence for several minutes. Surprisingly few students were in the common room, and those that were had grown used to Sirius Black’s and Remus Lupin’s nocturnal habits. As Frank Longbottom gathered his belongings for the night, he hovered by the two younger boys. “All right there, you two?”

 

Remus snapped his head up, startled at the interruption. He recovered quickly. “Yeah, thanks. Just can’t sleep.” He knew his smile, especially combined with a nasty new scar over his eyebrow, was unconvincing. He knew that Frank was genuinely concerned. He also knew that he wanted nothing but to be left alone, and Frank seemed to pick that up, too.

 

“Well, goodnight Lupin, Black.”

 

Remus glanced at Sirius, who hadn’t even noticed Frank’s presence as he unraveled his sleeve, repaired it with his wand, and started again, over and over. Frank wasn’t the last student to leave, but the remaining few didn’t last much longer, and soon the two boys were alone in the oppressive silence of the common room. 

 

Every part of Remus, physical and mental, was screaming at him, reminding him of  _ what he was _ and what that meant. The less he slept, the less logical his thoughts, and he had slept about eight hours in three days. So tonight he sat, curling in on himself, seized by the absolute certainty that he was going to become Greyback, with every grisly detail that implied.

 

After a painfully long time, Remus thought he was going to choke or vomit on his own thoughts and so he turned to Sirius. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, surprised at how even his voice was.

 

Sirius glanced up at Remus, then looked down again and shook his head. He shrugged. “Nothing you want to hear.”

 

Immediately, Remus was intrigued, and a little annoyed. “Please. I hear about every bloody scone you eat. I hear James pine far more than I can bear. I hear about Peter’s  _ socks _ , for Christ’s sake. What, at this point, do I not want to hear?”

 

Sirius seemed frustrated as he sunk further onto the couch. “That’s all normal. Dull. Normal.”

 

Perhaps it was an issue of trust, Remus thought, which was frankly absurd. “Right. I share the worst secret imaginable with my three mates, and in return I get to hear every stultifying detail of their lives and nothing else. Fine.”

 

This grabbed Sirius’s attention. He narrowed his eyes a little. “Moony, are you mad?”

 

“Sure feel it, lately.”

 

“Ha, ha. Are you angry?”

 

Remus shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what I am. Angry seems possible.”

 

Sirius gave Remus a long stare, a thoughtful one, and Remus averted his eyes long before Sirius stopped looking. Finally, the other boy spoke. “I got a letter today, from home.” A pause. Remus noted the furrow in Sirius’s brow as he glared at his hands. “It wasn’t anything bad, I guess. I just hate hearing from them. Being reminded. At Hogwarts, I can pretend they aren’t even real, sometimes. Even when I’m with Regulus, if we’re here, it’s okay.”

 

Remus considered everything he knew about the Black family, and everything he didn’t. Sirius rarely talked about them, but stories about his cousin Bellatrix still found their way around school, several years after she had left. “Why…” he began, but the look on Sirius’s face, fury and fear, made his stomach clench.  _ Why _ could he never find the right words? “What are you scared of?”

 

Sirius’s head snapped up. “Do I  _ look _ scared?” He certainly didn’t, at that moment. Deranged, maybe. “Bloody hell, Remus. I’m not fucking  _ scared _ of them. I could take them both out at once. I just… don’t like thinking about them. And when I get a letter, how can I not think about them?” He paused, tightening his lips and clenching his fist. “All. Bloody. Day.”

 

Remus recognized himself in his friend, then. He reached out, nudging Sirius’s arm slightly. “All bloody day. Me too.”

 

“What is it for you?” Sirius asked after they had exchanged quick, knowing smiles.

 

He couldn’t tell Sirius. Immediately, Remus felt his chest tighten.  _ He’ll know, _ he thought,  _ If you tell him he’ll know what you’re going to become _ . Remus felt his breathing quicken, and he knew what he must look like to his friend as he shook his head continuously.  _ You’re going crazy, and none of them will stay to deal with that mess. _

 

Considering Remus carefully, Sirius began to speak again, more quietly than before. “You were right. I  _ am  _ scared, sometimes. For Regulus, I mean. I think he’ll be like them, and I can’t stop it. I just… I love him, you know? But he can’t see what they’re doing. To me, to him. To each other.”

 

It wasn’t much more specific, but Remus could recognize the effort it took for Sirius to reveal even this much. And so unsure of what exactly he would say, but feeling obliged to reciprocate, he swallowed and began. “I think about it all the time. What it means to be what I am. Who I am. All the damn time. It makes me crazy, you know?” He paused, trying to keep his stomach in place as it seemed to plummet. “Do you know who--” He thought he would choke. “Do you know who Fenrir Greyback is?”

 

“Of course, everyone’s heard of the bastard. Crazy arsehole. I heard one story--” Sirius stopped abruptly. Remus shut his eyes, almost able to hear his friend’s thoughts catching up and connecting. “Shit,” he whispered. “Remus--shit.” 

 

Remus felt like an idiot as his eyes burned and his throat closed up. He would  _ not _ cry in front of Sirius Black. But he wanted to expel everything inside him, to exorcise his worst voices by speaking them aloud. “I’m going to become like him. I hate him. I hate me. He took everything that would have been me and he turned it into him and now I’m going to become him.”

 

Sirius didn’t make an answer as Remus tried to breathe evenly and failed, but he reached out a hand to his friend. Finally, barely above a whisper, Sirius spoke. “They don’t get to tell us. What we are, what we’ll be. We have to fight them.” Remus could hear the hard determination in Sirius’s shaky voice. “We have to fight them,” he repeated, “We’ll do it together.”

__________

 

“Right, then,” Remus cleared his throat. “Confidentiality. What else?”

 

“Jesus, Remus, isn’t that one what this was all about anyway?” Sirius stood up and paced a little. “I fucked up, and you didn’t want to just say,  _ hey, Sirius, you fucked up _ , and so now we have rules.”

 

Remus sighed and put down his quill, looking evenly at his friend. “Sirius. You fucked up. I was angry at you this morning. I’m not anymore, and you clearly feel terrible, so we can let that be.” He leaned forward. “I want a good list of rules. Not just because of this morning, but because we live this weird, half-awake life half the year, and it’s almost not connected with our real lives. That’s kind of strange, isn’t it?”

 

Strange, Sirius thought, and wonderful. Hours and hours without commitment or anything tying him to the next day. Hours he used to spend alone, staring at a wall or trying to talk to house elves or older students, until by some miracle Remus had joined him. He wouldn’t lose this world for anything, so he just sighed, an exaggerated frustration. “Okay. Rules. How about: Nothing is a bad idea.”

 

Remus snorted. “ _ Nothing _ feels extreme. How about everything is worth considering?”

 

  1. _No idea should go unexplored._



 

**October 1975**

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Remus, come  _ on _ . We have a rule about this.”

 

“ _ No. _ ”

 

“You can’t break your own rules, you wanker. It’s written down! By you!”

 

Remus ran a hand through his hair. Sirius had seen him do this a hundred times, but it had recently begun to fill him with something he couldn’t yet name. “ _ Merlin _ , you’re stubborn. There’s absolutely no way we can do this without getting caught.”

 

Sirius laughed. “No risk, no fun.” 

 

It was 2:30 in the morning, the first night of an insomniatic cycle for Remus. Sirius didn’t necessarily  _ wish _ for his friend to be miserably exhausted and unable to sleep, but his nights were so much easier when someone else suffered with him. Remus had been sleeping well since they returned to school in September, even after the last full moon. Now, it was the middle of October and Sirius finally had company again. 

 

Remus humored him. “Okay, Sirius. ‘No idea should go unexplored.’ Explore it. How would you do this?”

 

“How would  _ we  _ do this.” Sirius grinned wickedly. He had given the matter plenty of thought. “It wouldn’t actually be that hard. We just need to get off grounds, and then I can apparate us.”

 

“You don’t know how to apparate. We won’t learn till next year.”

 

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “I had an edifying summer, Remus. Father wouldn’t let me rest until I could get from Grimmauld Place to Malfoy Manor in one piece.” Sirius didn’t add that the lessons were far from voluntary and far from pleasant, but judging from the tic on Remus’s face, he probably guessed as much.

 

“So you can apparate now?” Remus did look impressed, which made Sirius feel--well, something. “Okay, but you can’t apparate or disapparate or anything off school grounds. We’ll both be expelled.”

 

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know. If we disapparate from Hogsmeade, to a safe apparition point, why would anyone at the ministry assume it’s underage wizards? Besides,” Sirius felt a little ashamed and a little smug as he continued. “I’ve used magic loads of times outside school. No one really checks a Black son, even the disappointing one.”

 

Remus smirked at that, something caustic in his face. “They’ll have far less sympathy for a half-blood werewolf. Not everyone has been blessed with your fine pedigree.”

 

This, Sirius thought, was unfair. He wasn’t sure what felt unfair--probably the bitter tone in Remus’s voice, which he didn’t feel he deserved and which stung more than he would admit.

 

“Well, at least  _ think _ about it. Tell me tomorrow. We’ll never have a chance like this again. Queen, in Glasgow? How crazy would it be to sit in this bloody castle when Freddy Mercury is that close?”

 

Remus shrugged, still a little cold. “I’ll think about it and tell you tomorrow. But I’ll tell you the same thing I just did.”

 

Sirius needed to bring back some levity to his friend’s face. He wasn’t sure what his chest would do if Remus kept looking at the fire like that, but he didn’t think it would be anything good. “Hey, Moony,” he finally said, nudging Remus’s leg with his foot. “You want to go to the kitchens?”

 

Remus sighed, but Sirius thought he heard something fond in it now. “Of course I do.  _ That’s _ an idea I can explore.”

__________

 

“Okay, then,” Remus said, “Anything else?” He went to dip his quill in ink but found the jar dry. “Shit.”

 

Sirius looked around the room and spotted someone’s forgotten ink. “Here, use this.”

 

Remus gave him a reproving look. “It’s not mine.”

 

“It’s gone three, Remus. They shouldn’t have left it if it mattered to them.”

 

His friend laughed. “Jesus. Can that be a rule?” Sirius grinned and tossed him the inkwell.

 

  1. _Any item in the Common Room after three is fair game._



 

**April 1977**

Remus hadn’t been sleeping for a week, and he knew tonight would be the same. So when James and Peter started to head up to their room around 12, Remus didn’t move from his spot on the couch. James looked expectantly at Sirius and Remus. “You lot coming?”

 

Sirius turned to Remus, eyebrows raised. Remus always at least  _ tried _ to sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to move tonight. “Go on,” he told James. “Won’t be too long.” 

 

Sirius was full of manic energy tonight. “What gives, Moony? Trying to wring out every minute in my company?”

 

Remus felt a flash of annoyance. “I’m so sick of the curtains around my bed, I want to tear them to bits sometimes. I can’t stare at them tonight.” He turned on his side so he was facing Sirius. “Does James know you never sleep?”

 

The question was important, somehow, though Remus couldn’t quite name how. As Sirius answered, his smile felt dangerous. “What do you think? The wanker is dead to the world as soon as he’s horizontal. How’s he going to know about my sleeping habits?”

 

“Well, you could  _ talk  _ to him, I suppose, but maybe that’s a bit extreme.” 

 

“What for? He’s not going to stay up with me. It only really matters that you know.” Remus smiled at this answer, but turned his head away first. “Besides, do you tell people when you haven’t slept in a week?”

 

Remus shrugged. “Peter always notices after two or three days. If it’s especially bad, I’ll complain to James. Lilly offered to make me dreamless sleep, once, but…” Remus had suggested Sirius take the potion at one point, but he had been violently opposed, citing a dozen cases of irreversible addiction. 

 

Sirius grew quiet suddenly in a way that didn’t usually happen so early. “You want to know something else I never told James?” Remus’s stomach flipped. He very much wanted that, to hold another secret for Sirius, but he wondered what it meant that Sirius would tell him. Remus just shrugged, and Sirius continued, “They give it to me at home, some nights. I don’t get a choice. I just wake up in the morning with hours of nothing behind me. It’s… well, it’s terrifying.”

 

His face was twisted with a hateful look, and Remus couldn’t blame him. “That can’t be legal,” he objected, knowing at once how ludicrous it was to talk of  _ legality _ for the House of Black. “I’m sorry,” he said more softly. 

 

Sirius shrugged, recovering his liveliness jarringly quickly. “Whatever. Only one more summer and then I’m out. Now, since we aren’t wasting any time pretending we might sleep, what should we do this fine evening?”

 

They visited the kitchens, wandered to the astronomy tower, vaguely sought out the Bloody Baron, and returned to the common room around three. Sirius’s frenetic energy hadn’t flagged, and Remus watched from an armchair with more attention than he would admit as the other boy paced restlessly around the common room. Remus kept whatever new fascination Sirius held for him at a distance, unwilling to look it squarely in the face. He told himself he was growing more observant, that it was a developing personality trait. As if to prove it to himself he would deliberately work to notice things about other people that took no effort at all to notice about Sirius. 

 

Like the way that, even when he stopped pacing, Sirius still looked like he was in motion. He bent over and picked something up, and Remus grew instinctively wary at the grin on his face. “What did you find?” he called, exaggerated ease in his voice.

 

Sirius bounded back over to Remus and leaned onto the arm of his chair. He held up what looked like a small pencil, but Remus soon recognized it as eyeliner. “Evans must have left it, it was right where she was sitting,” Sirius said. “Can we have a try?”

 

Remus couldn’t refuse anything to Sirius right then, and though he made a show of protesting, he knew he would let his friend do anything that night.

 

Eyes closed, Remus pictured Sirius leaning over him with concentration etched into his face. He felt his friend’s very breath as he painstakingly dragged the pencil along Remus’s eyelids. Finally, Sirius spoke. “Open your eyes.” Remus did, and Sirius was much farther away than he had expected, looking critically at his face. “Well, it’s not perfect.”

 

Remus stood and approached a mirror on one of the walls, keen to look at something that wasn’t Sirius. He nearly laughed out loud when he caught his reflection, all ugly scars and exhaustion and now, impeccable eyeliner. “Merlin, Sirius, have you been practicing? It  _ is _ perfect. But it definitely doesn’t suit me.”

 

“Will you do my eyes?” Sirius asked, sounding almost eager. 

  
  


“Don’t expect it to be this pretty.” They sat facing each other on a couch, and Sirius closed his eyes and leaned forward. Remus began to drag the pencil around his left eye, knowing from the start he would do a far worse job than Sirius had. Already it was smudging. Remus leaned closer and tried to fix it with his thumb.

 

One thing Remus prided himself upon was his generally staid manner and overall impulse control. It made him valuable, he thought. Less timid than Peter, he could be the voice of reason when necessary. But right now, the voice of reason had fled Remus’s mind and he suddenly realized that he  _ wanted  _ the boy in front of him. 

 

The realization made his hands pause as he stared at Sirius’s mouth. Almost as quickly, though, he resumed his work, hastier and more carelessly so as to be done. His heart was still beating loudly when he said, “Okay.” 

 

Sirius opened his eyes as he leapt up and leaned into the mirror. Remus tried to snap himself out of it, but when Sirius whirled around again to face Remus, the smile that split his face was a beautiful sight.

 

“It suits you,” Remus said, trying to sound appropriately impressed and mocking. How did he sound when he wasn’t thinking so hard about it?

 

“No shit, it suits me. I look…” He turned back to the mirror and paused, smudging it a little further. Remus wasn’t sure the last time he’d seen so much glee unaccompanied by bitterness in his friend. “I look like I feel,” he finally finished, turning to Remus. “Thanks, Moony.”

 

Sirius picked up the eyeliner pencil and looked at it in a way Remus wished was directed at him. He abruptly pocketed it, and Remus raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to leave that here for Lily?”

 

Sirius waved him off. “I’ll give it to her tomorrow.” It was a lie and they both knew it.

 

__________

 

They had grown quiet as each tried to wrack their brain, wondering if there was anything else important to commit to paper. Finally, Sirius shrugged. “I think that’s a full list. I don’t have anything else.”

 

Remus nodded slowly, but then, suddenly, grinned. “I think we should have one about the sunrise. You know, on days we’re up late enough that it’s early again.”

 

Sirius groaned. “God, you’re such a sot.” But he could tell this was one Remus wouldn’t give up on, and seeing the smile cross his friend’s face, aimed at Sirius himself, what else could he say but “Fine, we’ll watch the bloody sun rise.”

 

  1. _If the sun rises, watch it._



 

**December 1977**

 

“Hey, Padfoot.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Will you check my astronomy?”

 

“I suppose,” Sirius sighed without any real annoyance. He shifted over on the couch so he was closer to Remus and leaned over to read. The assignment looked perfect, of course, but Sirius still looked it over slowly. His chin nearly rested on Remus’s shoulder.

 

In moments like this, he wondered how they had reached this point and how he had been so lucky. Six months ago, Remus wasn’t speaking to him and he had resigned himself to losing every friend he had. When they had returned to school in September, Sirius had been filled with a newfound dread for his sleepless nights, unsure what shape they would take without Remus. A few days in, he had stumbled down the stairs late only to see Remus already sitting in the Common Room. Waiting for him, it seemed.

 

“You’re going to tell me why you did it,” Remus had said, calm only barely masking his anger. “And you’ll tell me the truth.” And so Sirius had, the whole messy truth about Regulus slipping away every day, about Snape’s gloating, about trying to reach his brother and being blocked by cocky slytherin fanatics like Snape at every turn. About the frightening, nagging voice that defied control, that said Snape deserved the worst. 

 

“But you would have made me the weapon,” Remus said, his mouth a hard line. And Sirius had listened to Remus’s whole messy truth, about what that night had done to him, what the summer had been for him. And Sirius had then told him what his summer had been, as much as he felt he could without choking, and Remus seemed to soften despite himself.   
  


In the end, though he knew it was undeserved, Sirius had been forgiven. Remus, by way of explanation, had said simply, “I can’t sleep, and I can’t  _ not _ sleep without you. It would feel odd, after all these years. Besides. I… forgive you. We aren’t done with it, but I forgive you.” 

 

And since then, Sirius had begun to look forward to their shared nights more than ever. He wasn’t sure how it started--their heads leaned together over a piece of parchment, maybe, or Remus reaching across Sirius for a cup of tea and not quite retreating--but they had developed a  _ closeness _ that Sirius relished. Shoulders leaned against each other, one’s head on the other’s chest as they lay on the carpet, a hand squeezed as one or the other of them tried not to break. It was easy, and in appearance not distinct from the physicality of Sirius’s and James’s friendship, but it had the power to send Sirius spinning.

 

Tonight, as Remus rolled up his parchment (“It’s two, Moony.” “You  _ hated _ the idea of these rules, you know.”), he stretched, leaning backwards into the couch. “What are you doing for Christmas?” he asked Sirius, smiling, tired and content. Sirius had to admit he hadn’t given the matter any thought yet but would probably stay with James. They whiled away a few hours in such idle chat, interspersed with comfortable silence.

 

Finally, Remus yawned. “I might try and nap here,” he told Sirius. That worked for Remus, sometimes--he could catch an hour of half-sleep if he was not in his bed. It filled Sirius with envy, although he knew well that it was a poor kind of substitute for a true sleep.

 

Remus settled, his head on a pillow and his feet across Sirius’s legs. For a few hours, Sirius tried to read, tried not to stare. He himself drifted off a time or two. Occasionally he would notice that Remus’s eyes were half open, and seemed fixed on him. Finally, Remus sat up again and looked at his watch. “Merlin, was I out that long?”

 

“Yes,” Sirius said pointedly. “You left me quite bored.”

 

“Did you catch up on your readings?”

 

“Not the point.”

 

Remus laughed, a light thing unburdened by daytime. “We should go to the astronomy tower,” he said. “The sun will be up before long.”

 

Sirius stared. “Remus, it’s  _ freezing _ outside.” 

 

“If I have to follow the homework rule, you have to follow the sunrise rule.” Remus was smiling and he was beautiful. He looked so very happy in this moment, as though nothing weighed on him. “We’ll bring blankets. We can make a little fire. Come on, please?”

 

And Sirius relented, of course, as he knew he would. Remus’s levity was catching, and it felt almost like they floated up to the tower despite the armful of heavy blankets they each carried. As they walked, both drunk with exhaustion, they whispered and tried not to laugh loud enough to wake any portraits. 

 

At the top of the tower they nested all their blankets and faced the east, backs slouched against a wall. “ _ Morgana _ . I didn’t know I could feel this cold,” Remus said, shivering violently.

 

Sirius laughed, “I fucking told you.”

 

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Remus insisted, also laughing a little. He lit a small fire inside a teacup he had brought with them. “Look, you can see the colors starting over the mountains. Come here.” He pulled Sirius close to his side. Sirius complied, hardly allowing himself to think about what he felt as he lay his head on Remus’s shoulder. Remus had only recently grown taller than Sirius. At first he had resented his friend’s newfound height, but now, feeling safer than he could remember with Remus’s arm around him and chest beneath his head, he found he didn’t mind it.

 

They sat in silence as night gave in and the sun crept its way up. They had only done this a handful of times; one or both of them almost always drifted off by the time the sun rose. Sirius remembered being skeptical of the rule but now couldn’t remember why. There was something so unbounded and wild about the way the light seeped across mountains, found its way between trees, eventually touched the two of them. The sky changed every time he blinked, and it was perfect in each arrangement.

 

“I could sit here forever,” Remus muttered. “This is perfect.” He still had that easy smile, as though everything would work. Sirius envied it. “Can you believe we’re almost done, though? With school?” This was said more quietly.

 

“Not really. What do we know about what happens next, you know? I can hardly picture it.” Sirius had, in fact, very deliberately not thought about what the shape of life would be in six months. It was too much uncertainty.

 

Remus sighed. “My prospects are pretty shit, wherever I go. But I know I still won’t sleep. And I don’t want to stay up alone.” He had tilted his head back a little so that when Sirius turned to him their eyes met. Remus was still smiling that same bloody smile, by now gilded by the early sun. Sirius couldn’t stand it. He turned his eyes down.

 

He wanted to be wry or cutting or anything resembling  _ Sirius Black _ , but he was far too tired. “I think I’d go mad if I had to not sleep without you. Good and proper mad, I mean, not just whatever I already am.” He didn’t want to ask for more than he deserved. “What if we did London together? The four of us, I mean. Flatmates, or whatever.”

 

Remus shrugged noncommittally, and Sirius cursed himself for wanting too much. “I don’t know. James may have other plans before long, it seems, and I can’t really see Peter in London.” 

 

“Of course,” Sirius agreed quickly. “It wasn’t a real idea, I just--”

 

Remus interrupted, his smile warm and half-awake. “What if we did London together, the two of us?” He brought his face closer to Sirius’s, and Sirius wondered if he would ever breathe again. Remus looked intently at him, either decided or deciding something. “No idea should go unexplored,” he murmured. Deciding it didn’t matter what happened in any moment but this one, Sirius closed the distance between the two of them and kissed Remus. 

 

He was nervous until he wasn’t, until he decided he would never be nervous again, never be anything other than wildly happy. Remus smiled against Sirius’s mouth, and both boys started to laugh as they pulled back a little, foreheads still together. 

 

Tonight--this morning--Sirius’s ghosts were far away, and Remus’s eyes didn’t look hollow. Tonight, Sirius wanted to kiss a scar on Remus’s jaw and he did, because he could. They stared at each other, without glancing away, because they could. As the sun triumphed over the last of the horizon, Remus pushed Sirius’s hair behind his ear and grinned. “We might need some new rules.”


End file.
